When With An Injured Bird
by torsdagengel
Summary: When Castiel had his wings ripped out, Dean had watched helplessly as his eyes filled with the overwhelming intensity of pure hurt and pain, unable to cry out or scream. He'd stumbled for a moment, disoriented and very much resembling a badly injured bird, before falling to his knees and collapsing in a bloody heap on the ground. Two-shot.
1. Part 1

**Rating:** PG13**  
Fandom: **Supernatural  
**Pairing(s): **Dean/Castiel  
**Warnings:** possible English mistakes, shameless angel!whump  
**Spoilers:** none. **  
A/N: **Well it's been quite a while, but here I am with this little hurt/comfort (wow, big surprise there!) two-shot that may or may not go three-shot on us. We'll see where the winds take us with this. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

When Castiel had his wings ripped out, Dean had watched helplessly as his eyes filled with the overwhelming intensity of pure hurt and pain, unable to cry out or scream. He'd stumbled for a moment, disoriented and very much resembling a badly injured bird, before falling to his knees and collapsing in a bloody heap on the ground.

It was dead silent for a moment, before Dean had rushed to his side, yelling at Sam to go get the car as he'd tossed the keys somewhere in his brother's general direction.

The loss of his wings had taken a heavy toll on the angel's grace, enough that he couldn't have slowed the steadily expanding pool of crimson around him before he would bleed out. Dean had been quick to remove his jacket and put pressure on the deep wounds in Cas' back, kneeling beside him and trying hopelessly to stop the bleeding.

By the time Sam had made it back up the winding dirt road with the impala, there was hardly a spot on Dean's jacket that hadn't been soaked in red, and now the acrid stench of blood is clinging tightly to his brother's hands.

"Help me lift him," Dean orders, attempting to expedite the situation.

Sam sends a worried look in Dean's direction before moving to aid his brother in lifting a hundred and sixty pounds of angel into the car.

Castiel startles awake and cries out, barely an inch off the ground. He isn't saying anything, just calling out, a cry for help, and it takes all the brothers' strength not to drop him when he starts thrashing.

"Cas - Cas, it's okay," Dean tries to comfort, kneeling beside him again and running a hand through dark, mildly sweaty hair, hating himself because it really is not okay. This is so far from okay.

"It's just Sammy n' me - it's okay. We're gonna help you."

Castiel relaxes. He stops screaming and seems to still, but his breathing is rapid and unsteady. Dean continues to sit and brush through his hair.

"When you find an injured bird, you're - uh - you're supposed to pick it up really carefully, cause it'll be scared," Sam starts, ignoring the borderline 'what the hell' look Dean is giving him and returning it with an expression that clearly reads 'hear me out', "You're supposed to hold it upright, cause it's easier for them to breath like that, and securely so it doesn't hurt itself more… and then you put it in a dark box lined with something soft so it'll calm down, and…"

It's quiet for a moment, aside from Cas' heavy breathing.

"He's not a bird, Sam," Dean reminds sternly, "And putting him in a box isn't gonna do shit. We need to get him back to the motel so I can stitch him up and — and start figuring out how to get his wings back…"

"Dean—"

"Shut _up_, Sam."

Despite Dean's protests, they sit Cas upright before lifting him this time and move much more carefully than before. Dean uses a stolen motel towel and two roles of tightly wrapped gauze from the trunk as a makeshift bandage and sits in the back with him propped up against his side, holding the angel securely in his arms, and in all honesty, he isn't just doing it to help keep pressure on the wound.

The drive to the motel seems so much longer now. Dean is sure it hadn't been much more than an hour on the way there, but it feels like its been ages since they drove out of the woods.

Cas' skin is pallid and cool to the touch, and his breathing is becoming weaker by the minute. He'll occasionally whimper or let out some sort of pained noise, and Dean will gently brush a hand through his hair and whisper that everything is going to be okay.

"Why is he bleeding so much?" Sam questions suddenly, "I thought wings weren't supposed to be a physical thing?"

"Like hell if I know," Dean says quietly, attention focused on the angel in his arms.

"You're being awfully fussy with him," the younger brother comments, and Dean shoots him a genuine glare.

"Yeah, well I'm worried, okay? You got a problem with that or something?" he says defensively.

Sam shakes his head.

"No, not at all, just - never mind," he stops himself, barely managing to keep the knowing smile off his face, and apparently not doing well enough, because Dean notices.

"You have something you wanna share with the class, Sammy? Cause last time I checked it isn't so funny when you've got your best friend dying in the backseat of your car," he spits.

The affectionate smile falls into a look of empathy.

"He'll be okay, Dean," Sam assures, "He's a tough little guy."

A flat silence takes over the car for the next good portion of the drive, not awkward, but not comfortable either, just a silence.

Dean had finally been beginning to doze when they hit a bump in the road that causes Cas startle awake again. It takes a moment for his senses to catch up with him before he cries out in pain and suddenly can't catch his breath.

"Cas, hey - hey, calm down, man! You gotta calm down," Dean says as evenly as he can manage, trying to reach out and keep Cas from disturbing his bandages any further.

The angel lets out a dry, choked sob and takes in a shaky breath. It's the closest Dean has ever seen him come to tears.

"Dean," he says, undeniable fear an heartbreak seeping through the pain in his voice, "I can't… I can't feel my wings."

The hunter is sure something shatters in his chest at that moment.

"Dean, they're gone… it - this pain is…indescribable," he bites out, "Dean, it hurts."

The hunter holds onto Castiel's hand as he eases him back onto his shoulder.

"Shhh, it's okay, baby," he all but whispers, not even realising the slip up, "It's gonna be okay, you got that? We're gonna get you better, and we're gonna fix this, alright? Christ… Cas, I'm so sorry."

* * *

I'm going to try to get the second part finished in the next few days, but I'm suoer swamped with life and all that dumb shit right so I can't give any guarantees. I _am_, however, going to be a total dick and bribe you with that more reviews equals a faster update time. I'm so much of a review whore, I'm pretty sure it's not heaøthty… Anyway, thanks so much for reading!


	2. Part 2

**Rating:** PG13**  
Fandom: **Supernatural  
**Pairing(s): **Dean/Castiel  
**Warnings:** possible English mistakes, self loathing, more shameless angel!whump  
**Spoilers:** mild reference to a line in the most recent episode but nothing to do with the plot, other than that none (unless we're counting the bat cave)  
**A/N:** Here we are! First off, thank you so, so much for all the lovely feedback on the first chapter! I really can't tell you how much I appreciate it! This took a few more days to finish than I had initially hoped, so I apologise for that. Also, there was no good place to stop for a third chapter, so I just stuck with the original two-shot plan and made this one a bit longer. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

The rest of the drive is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, Dean will mutter something, almost too quiet to notice, and whether it's to himself or the angel in his arms is always unclear.

Castiel is unconscious when they arrive at the motel, and he remains that way as he's carried inside and laid down on his stomach on one of the beds.

He's breathing but not well, and he's unresponsive when Dean tries to wake him up.

"Alright, buddy, let's hope you're gonna sleep through this, cause we ain't got time to be waiting on you to come back to us," Dean muses as he removes the soiled makeshift bandages and begins to clean up the blood painting the angel's skin.

Sam is watching from the other side of the room, observing as his brother works diligently in his place beside Castiel on the other bed, his legs crossed and elbows resting on his knees for extra support. The angel's face is turned towards Dean at an angle that Sam can't see, but the rest of his body seems surprisingly relaxed.

"You're never that gentle when you're doing my stitches," the younger brother fake complains.

"Don't wanna wake him up," is all Dean offers instead of the usual snappy comeback.

He's almost finished stitching up the first wound when Castiel stirs for the first time since they'd left the car. It's just a slight twitch then, hardly noticeable, but it's only a few minutes later, right as Dean is about to clip the excess threads after tying them off, that Cas shifts slightly, enough for him to wake with a gasp of pain and a sharp, frightened look in his eyes as he weakly calls out, "Dean—"

"Whoa—hey, hey, hey. It's alright, buddy," the hunter shushes, a hint of worry in his tone, "We're halfway there already, got one side all stitched up."

Castiel nods weakly, not comprehending the implications of what Dean had just said.

The hunter clarifies, "I'm gonna do the other one now, 'kay?"

The angel nods again, his gaze still distant and unclear.

Dean gently wipes away the blood that had leaked from the wound while he had been tending to the first and barely begins to make the first stitch before Castiel cries out again.

"_Dean_," he breathes out, brow furrowed and nothing but clear pain written across his face.

"Shit, Cas… I'm sorry. I really am, but we've gotta do this, man. You're bleeding out; we need to—"

"Dean, it hurts," the angel barely avoids whimpering, fists clenching and twisting in the blankets beneath him, "I cannot endure - this pain is both physical and ethereal. I… a significant part of my grace has been torn apart from me, and the damage is… bleeding through to my vessel. I… I feel the effects of both, and it is… unbearable."

The concerned look Sam is sending from the adjacent bed does not go unnoticed before Cas' eyes drift closed for a moment, suddenly feeling much heavier than they had just seconds before.

"Cas," Dean starts, only to have a gesture held up at him to stop.

The angel takes a deep breath.

"I… understand that this is necessary," he says, "But I cannot guarantee that I will be able to 'keep the volume down', as you might say… and that has the potential to cause a number of problems."

The hunter watches him closely for a moment, several emotions appearing in his expression.

"Well, we're just gonna have to deal with those consequences later, cause what matters right now is making sure you're going to be okay, you got that?"

Castiel nods somewhat hesitantly, discomfort showing clearly on his face and something just short of agony lingering in his eyes.

"Yes, Dean," he affirms, trying his best to relax his vessel.

The hunter cleans the fresh blood from the wound once again and gives warning before he begins working the needle through the angel's skin, hands ever steady and even more gentle than before.

Castiel keeps quiet, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, twisting the bunched up sheets in his hands and managing to hold back anything louder than a pitiful moan or whimper.

He manages for several minutes until the needle ventures just slightly too deep, and a heart wrenching cry escapes his throat.

Their eyes meet when Dean sends him a worried glance laced with sympathy and guilt, but he continues his work via Castiel's unspoken request.

It takes nearly twice the time to stitch up this side, and they've only just finished, Castiel still wide eyed and gasping for air as Dean strokes his hair rhythmically and tries his best to calm him, when the telephone on the motel's night stand rings unceremoniously.

The brothers glance at each other, and it doesn't need to be spoken that they're getting noise complaints. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if someone was simultaneously calling the cops, either.

"Cas, we've gotta go," Dean says, not bothering to explain, and the angel simply nods, exhausted and entirely compliant.

The bunker is just less than four hours away, so they throw what little hadn't already been packed up into their bags and are out of the motel in what may very well be record time.

"You doing okay, buddy?" Dean asks quietly, just as he's done every time the angel has woken up for the last few hours.

Castiel shakes his head this time, and Dean sits up a little straighter.

"What's the matter? What's wrong?"

The angel hesitates a moment to speak, or maybe it's just hard for him.

"This is… extremely humiliating," he says, adding in a voice so quiet even Dean can barely hear it just inches from the source, "I deserve this… for all the pain I have caused."

"Cas–" Dean starts, but the angel has already returned to his unconscious state, "Goddammit…"

It's nearly five in the morning when they finally arrive at the bunker. Castiel is awake this time and unusually quiet, not moaning or whimpering.

Dean wonders if he's feeling better, or in less pain at least, but doesn't get his hopes up.

He's able to stand with Dean's support, his arm draped limply over broad shoulders and the hunter's gripping him around the waist.

"Dean," he says as they are walking away from the car, some kind of hurt and sadness in his voice that grabs the hunter's attention immediately.

Dean is just about to ask what's the matter when Cas finally continues.

"They're mocking me," he says quietly.

The hunter just stares for a moment, trying to figure out who it is Cas could be talking about. His brothers and sisters? Seems a little immature for angels.

"Who's mocking you, Cas?" he asks, watching the hurt build up behind the angel's eyes.

"The birds," he breathes out, "They're laughing."

Dean listens for a moment. There are birds chirping in the trees above them, as would be expected at five in the morning, and they sound just like they always do.

"Cas, they're not—"

"They're laughing at me," the angel persists, staring sorrowfully up at the trees as though he's done them wrong and is ashamed of himself.

Dean simply guides him to the front door, unable to deter his attention from the chirping and chattering above them.

He retreats to his own room after laying Cas down in one of the empty ones beside his and stares at the ceiling for what feels like hours, unable to fall asleep, knowing full well the reason and denying it to himself even so.

He eventually gets up with the excuse that Cas might need his bandages changed and makes his way down the hall to the next door.

The first thing he sees is an empty bed with slightly ruffled sheets, and Dean starts to panic for a moment before a sudden movement catches his eye. He isn't sure what would have been more horrifying, if Cas hadn't been there at all or the image that had greeted him of the angel sitting on the floor in front of a large mirror that had been propped against the wall, his shaking hands painted crimson and still holding onto the bloodied threads of the stitches he'd just pulled out of one side.

"Cas," Dean breathes out, "What the _hell_ are you doing?!"

The angel shrinks back slightly, dropping the thread to the floor and looking so upset, for a moment Dean is sure he's about to cry.

"I deserve this," he whispers, "I need to be… exterminated before I cause any more damage."

"Cas, what the fuck—"

"I have caused so much harm that cannot be undone, and when I try to make up for some of my mistakes, I only make things worse. Dean, you said so yourself, I can't tell right from wrong. I can't do anything right, and I deserve to - I deserve this. This is how it should be; it's… what is best for all of us."

"Dammit, Cas. _Dammit_. I didn't mean… That wasn't what I - that isn't—" the hunter runs his hands through his hair, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt, "Cas you can't do this to yourself - especially not because of something I said!"

"Don't flatter yourself, Dean. You're only a contributing factor," he says so casually, reaching behind himself, ready to tear out his stitches on the other side.

Dean grabs his hand.

"Stop it - you can't!"

"I apologise. That was cruel," the angel amends, "We should not part on such harsh terms."

"Cas, stop! Whatever the fuck you're doing, fucking stop!"

There is a painful moment of strained silence.

"Why?" the angel demands bluntly, sounding so composed and looking so completely the opposite, tears welling up in his eyes, guilt and loneliness and _hurt_ written all over his face.

"Perhaps you and Sam would be able to make things right… if I were not around to be a hindrance… so why should I live?"

The hunter's heart is pounding in his chest. He can feel his face heating, and he's sure he must be turning beet red.

"Why should I not let myself die, Dean?"

"Because I need you!" he says, and the next words are out of his mouth before they've even formed in his head, "Because I love you."

A moment of stunned silence passes between them.

"Dammit, Cas. I love you, and if you don't love me back that's fine, but you can't - you can't…" Dean trails off, suddenly cut off by an obnoxious lump in his throat.

His mind is racing almost as fast as his heart, and before he has time to fully process what's happened, Castiel's lips are against his, full and soft, and suddenly everything makes sense and everything is okay.

It's so chaste and simple, and Dean misses it way more than he should when Castiel pulls away.

"I love you too, Dean," he says, staring at the hunter with huge, irresistible blue eyes.

He reaches up to wipe the tears from Dean's face, losing a few of his own in the process.

"Aw Cas, c'mon, man. It's bad enough if one of us is crying… jesus, if we're both tearing up, that's like chick flick squared," he jokes, pulling the angel in for a hug.

Castiel winces slightly, and Dean is quickly reminded of the now open wound on his back.

"Shit, Cas - sorry," he apologises quickly before suggesting, "What do you say we get you all patched up again, and maybe we can, uh, make up for a little lost time, if you catch my drift."

Castiel nods slightly, suddenly seeming a little off balance, and Dean quickly reaches out an arm to steady him.

"That… sounds nice," the angel says quietly, words slurred ever so slightly.

He gets laid down in Dean's bed when his stitches are done and wrapped up again, and the hunter settles down beside him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

This feeling is so warm and comfortable and safe, and maybe he had to lose his wings to get this, but he just might not mind.

"Sam was correct," he informs after Dean has turned out the lights.

"About what?" the hunter asks, confused by the lack of context.

Castiel snuggles up to the warm body beside him.

"When you come across an injured bird," he says, "In order to calm it down, you place it in a dark box with a soft lining, and it will stop panicking because it feels safe."

He finds the hunter's hand beneath the blankets and loosely laces their fingers.

"You are my dark box, Dean."

* * *

End.

Thank you so much for reading! I would be ecstatic to have your feedback! :)


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